sk.dreamcatcher-第43部分

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nches　from　Pete's　own。　Its　burning　body　flapped　against　his　jacket。　Its　black　eyes　boiled。　It　had　nothing　so　sophisticated　as　a　mouth；　but　when　the　bulge　in　the　top　of　its　body　unhinged；　revealing　its　teeth；　Pete　screamed　at　it　'No！　No！　No！'　…　and　batted　it　into　the　fire；　where　it　writhed　and　made　its　frantic；　monkeylike　chattering。
　　　　His　left　foot　swung　in　a　short　arc　as　he　shoved　the　thing　farther　into　the　fire。　The　tip　of　his　boot　struck　the　tilting　pole；　which　had　just　decided　to　hold　the　lean…to　up　a　little　longer。　This　was　one　outrage　too　many　and　the　pole　snapped；　dropping　half　of　the　tin　roof。　A　second　or　two　later；　the　other　pole　snapped　as　well。　The　rest　of　the　roof　fell　into　the　fire；　sending　out　a　whirling　squirt　of　sparks。
　　　　For　a　moment　that　was　all。　Then　the　fallen　sheet　of　rusty　tin　began　to　heave　itself　up　and　down；　as　if　it　were　breathing。　A　moment　later；　Pete　crawled　out　from　under。　His　eyes　were　glazed。　His　skin　was　pasty　with　shock。　The　left　cuff　of　his　jacket　was　on　fire。　He　stared　at　this　for　a　moment　with　his　legs　still　under　the　fallen　roof　from　the　knees　down；　then　raised　his　arm　in　front　of　his　face；　drew　in　a　deep　breath；　and　blew　out　the　flames　rising　from　his　jacket　like　a　giant　birthday　candle。
　　　　Approaching　from　the　east　was　the　buzz　of　a　snowmobile　engine。　Jonesy　。　。　。　or　whatever　was　left　of　him。　The　cloud。　Pete　didn't　think　it　would　show　him　any　mercy。　This　was　no　day　for　mercy　in　the　Jefferson　Tract。　He　should　hide。　But　the　voice　advising　him　of　that　was　distant；　unimportant。　One　thing　was　good：　he　had　an　idea　he　had　finally　quit　drinking。
　　　　He　raised　his　savaged　right　hand　in　front　of　his　face。　One　finger　was　gone；　presumably　down　the　thing's　gullet。　Two　others　lay　in　a　swoon　of　severed　tendons。　He　saw　that　reddish…gold　stuff　already　growing　along　the　deepest　slashes　…　the　ones　the　monster　had　inflicted　and　the　one　he'd　done　himself；　crawling　back　into　the　Scout　after　the　beer。　He　could　feel　a　kind　of　fizzy　sensation　as　whatever　that　stuff　was　fed　on　his　flesh　and　blood。
　　　　Pete　suddenly　felt　that　he　couldn't　die　soon　enough。
　　　　The　sound　of　the　machine…guns　in　the　west　had　stopped；　but　it　wasn't　over；　not　by　a　long　shot。　And　as　if　the　thought　had　summoned　it；　a　huge　explosion　hammered　the　day；　blotting　out　the　wasp…whine　of　the　oning　snowmobile　and　everything　else。　Everything　but　the　busy　fizz　in　his　hand；　that　was。　In　his　hand；　the　crud　was　dining　on　him　the　way　the　cancer　that　had　killed　his　father　had　dined　on　the　old　man's　stomach　and　lungs。
　　　　Pete　ran　his　tongue　over　his　teeth；　felt　gaps　where　some　of　them　had　fallen　out。
　　　　He　closed　his　eyes　and　waited。

P　A　R　T　　T　W　O

GRAYBOYS




　　　A　ghost　es　out　of　the　unconscious　mind
　　　To　grope　my　sill：　It　moans　to　be　reborn！
　　　The　figure　at　my　back　is　not　my　friend；
　　　The　hand　upon　my　shoulder　turns　to　horn

　　　Theodore　Roethke

CHAPTER　TEN

KURTZ　AND　UNDERHILL


1

The　only　thing　in　the　cps　area　was　a　little　beer　n　deer　store　called　Gosselin's　Country　Market。　Kurtz's　cleaners　began　arriving　there　shortly　after　the　snow　began　to　fall。　By　the　time　Kurtz　himself　got　there；　at　ten…thirty；　support　was　starting　to　appear。　They　were　getting　a　grip　on　the　situation。
　　　　The　store　was　designated　Blue　Base。　The　barn；　the　adjacent　stable　（dilapidated　but　still　standing）；　and　the　corral　had　been　designated　Blue　Holding。　The　first　detainees　had　already　been　deposited　there。
　　　　Archie　Perlmutter；　Kurtz's　new　aide…de…camp　（his　old　one；　Calvert；　had　died　of　a　heart　attack　not　two　weeks　before　…　goddam　bad　timing）；　had　a　clipboard　with　a　dozen　names　on　it。　Perlmutter　had　arrived　with　both　a　laptop　puter　and　a　Palm　Pilot　only　to　discover　that　electronic　gear　was　currently　FUBAR　in　the　Jefferson　Tract：　tucked　up　beyond　all　recognition。　The　top　two　names　on　the　clipboard　were　Gosselins：　the　old　man　who　ran　the　store　and　his　wife。
　　　　'More　on　the　way；'　Perlmutter　said。
　　　　Kurtz　gave　the　names　on　Pearly's　clipboard　a　cursory　look；　then　handed　it　back。　Big　recreational　vehicles　were　being　parked　behind　them；　semi　trailers　were　being　jacked　and　leveled；　light　poles　were　going　up。　When　night　came；　this　place　would　be　as　well…lighted　as　Yankee　Stadium　at　World　Series　time。
　　　　'We　missed　two　guys　by　this　much；'　Perlmutter　said；　and　held　up　his　right　hand　with　the　thumb　and　forefinger　a　quarter　of　an　inch　apart。　'They　came　in　for　supplies。　Principally　beer　and　hot　dogs。'　Perlmutter's　face　was　pale；　with　a　wild　pink　rose　blooming　in　each　cheek。　He　had　to　raise　his　voice　against　the　steadily　increasing　noise　level。　Helicopters　were　ing　in　two　by　two　and　landing　on　the　blacktop　lane　that　eventually　made　its　way　out　to　Interstate　95；　where　you　could　go　north　toward　one　dull　town　（Presque　Isle）　or　south　toward　any　number　of　other　dull　towns　（Bangor　and　Derry；　for　starters）。　The　helicopters　were　fine；　as　long　as　their　pilots　didn't　have　to　depend　on　all　the　sophisticated　navigational　equipment；　which　was　also　FUBAR。
　　　　'Did　those　fellows　go　in　or　out？'　Kurtz　asked。
　　　　'Back　in；'　Perlmutter　said。　He　could　not　quite　bring　himself　to　meet　Kurtz's　eyes；　he　looked　everywhere　but。　'There's　a　woods　road；　Gosselin　says　it's　called　the　Deep　Cut　Road。　It's　not　on　the　standard　maps；　but　I　have　a　Diamond　International　Paper　survey　map　that　shows　'
　　　　'That's　fine。　Either　they'll　e　back　out　or　stay　in。　Either　way；　it's　fine。'
　　　　More　helicopters；　some　unshipping　their　。50s　now　that　they　were　safely　away　from　the　wrong　eyes。　This　could　end　up　being　as　big　as　Desert　Storm。　Maybe　bigger。
　　　　；You　understand　your　mission　here；　Pearly；　don't　you？'　Perlmutter　most　definitely　did。　He　was　new；　he　wanted　to　make　an　impression；　he　was　almost　jumping　up　and　down。　Like　a　spaniel　that　smells　lunch；　Kurtz　thought。　And　he　did　it　all　without　making　eye　contact。　'Sir；　my　job　is　triune　in　nature。'
　　　　Triune；　Kurtz　thought。　Triune；　how　about　that？
　　　　'I　am　to　a；　intercept；　b；　turn　intercepted　persons　over　to　medical；　and　c；　contain　and　segregate　pending　further　orders。'
　　　　'Exactly。　That's…'
　　　　'But　sir；　beg　your　pardon；　sit；　but　we　don't　have　any　doctors　here　yet；　only　a　few　corpsmen；　and…'
　　　　'Shut　up；'　Kurtz　said。　He　didn't　speak　loudly；　but　half　a　dozen　men　in　unmarked　green　coveralls　（they　were　all　wearing　unmarked　green　coveralls；　including　Kurtz　himself）　hesitated　as　they　went　double…timing　on　their　various　errands。　They　glanced　toward　where　Kurtz　and　Perlmutter　were　standing；　then　got　moving　again。　Triple…time；　As　for　Perlmutter；　the　roses　in　his　cheeks　died　at　once。　He　stepped　back；　putting　another　foot　between　himself　and　Kurtz。
　　　　'If　you　ever　interrupt　me　again；　Pearly；　I'll　knock　you　down。　Interrupt　me　a　second　time　and　I'll　put　you　in　the　hospital。　Do　you　understand？'
　　　　With　what　was　clearly　a　tremendous　effort；　Perlmutter　brought　his　gaze　up　to　Kurtz's　face。　To　Kurtz's　eyes。　He　snapped　off　a　salute　so　crisp　it　almost　crackled　with　static　electricity。　'Sir；　yes　sir！'
　　　　'You　can　quit　that　too；　you　know　better。'　And　when　Perhnutter's　gaze　began　to　drop：　'Look　at　me　when　I'm　talking　to　you；　laddie。'
　　　　Very　reluctantly；　Perlmutter　did　so。　His　plexion　was　now　leaden。　Although　the　noise　of　the　helicopters　lined　up　along　the　road　was　cacophonous；　it　somehow　seemed　very　quiet　right　here；　as　if　Kurtz　traveled　in　his　own　weird　air…pocket。　Perlmutter　was　convinced　that　everyone　was　watching　them　and　that　they　could　all　see　how　terrified　he　was。　Some　of　it　was　his　new　boss's　eyes　…　the　cataclysmic　absence　in　those　eyes；　as　if　there　were　really　no　brain　behind　them　at　all。　Perlmutter　had　heard　of　the　thousand…yard　stare；　but　Kurtz's　seemed　to　go　on　for　a　million　yards；　maybe　light…years。
　　　　Yet　somehow　Perlmutter　held　Kurtz's　gaze。　Looked　into　the　absence。　He　was　not　off　to　a　good　start　here。　It　was　important　…　it　was　imperative　…　that　the　slide　be　stopped　before　it　could　bee　an　avalanche。
　　　　'All　right；　good。　Better；　anyway。'　Kurtz's　voice　was　low　but　Perlmutter　had　no　problem　hearing　him　despite　the　overlapping　chunter　of　the　helicopters。　'I'm　going　to　say　this　to　you　Just　once；　and　only　because　you're　new　to　my　service　and　you　clearly　don't　know　your　asshole　from　your　piehole。　I　have　been　asked　to　run　a　phooka　operation　here。　Do　you　know　what　a　phooka　is。
　　　　'No；'　Perlmutter　said。　It　caused　him　almost　physical　pain　not　to　be　able　to　say　No　sir。
　　　　'According　to　the　Irish；　who　as　a　race　have　never　entirely　crawled　from　the　bath　of　superstition　in　which　their　mothers　gat　them；　a　phooka　is　a　phantom　horse　that　kidnaps　travelers　and　carries　them　away　on　its　back。　I　use　it　to　mean　an　operation　which　is　both　covert　and　wide　open。　A　paradox；　Perlmutter！　The　good　news　is　that　we've　been　developing　contingency　plans　for　just　this　sort　of　clusterfuck　since　1947；　when　the　Air　Force　first　recovered　the　sort　of　extraterrestrial　artifact　now　known　as　a　flashlight。　The　bad　news　is　that　the　future　is　now　and　I　have　to　face　it　with　guys　like　you　in　support。　Do　you　understand　me；　buck？'
　　　　'Yes；　s　。　。　。　yes。'
　　　　'I　hope　so。　What　we've　got　to　do　here；　Perlmutter；　is　go　in　fast　and　hard　and　utterly　phooka。　We're　going　to　do　as　much　dirtywork　as　we　have　to　and　e　out　as　clean　as　we　can　clean　yes；　Lord；　and　smilin　。　。　。'